


only got eyes for you

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Friendship, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “I meant—are you together?” Matt asks. He still sounds angry.“Oh, yeah,” Foggy says, laughing. “I’m having a madcap love affair with the Punisher.”





	only got eyes for you

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna post a few of the longer things I've written on Tumblr recently that I think people might want to bookmark? Here's a thing.

After Claire decides she’s not especially interested in having a known murderer in her apartment, good intentions or no, somehow Foggy’s the one who gets Frank Castle at his door every few days with stray bullet grazes and other injuries that Foggy’s shitty two-day first-aid course skills can passably deal with.

“I don’t want a murderer in my apartment  _either_ ,” Foggy had said, when Matt stopped by to ask him.

“Fog,” Matt had said, softly, face going all sweet and hopeful and  _fuck_  him. “Please?”

“…un _fair_ , with the  _face_ , Murdock,” he had sighed, and Matt grinned at him and promised to make it up to him somehow. That’s yet to happen, of course, and now Foggy’s got blood stains on the rug that his mother bought him as an apartment warming gift and a frequent house guest that speaks mostly in single syllable grunts.

“Do you want coffee?” he asks, after a few days of nothing from Frank but pointing out what was wrong and a cursory  _thanks_. Frank looks hesitant, sitting at Foggy’s kitchen table after Foggy clenched his teeth and sewed up a gash in his arm. He kept sneaking glances at Frank’s face during it only to find it purposefully blank, the only hint that he was in pain coming from his intensely furrowed brow.

“You don’t have to,” Frank says.

“It’s well past 4:00 AM and I’m not gonna be able to go back to sleep,” Foggy says. “It’s no trouble to make another cup. You should probably eat something, too—you lost a decent amount of blood.”

When all else fails, he can fall on his questionable but earnest hosting skills.

“I can just go home,” Frank says.

“Throw me a bone here, dude,” Foggy says, laughing, already tipping the coffee can over to pour slightly too much in. “If we’re gonna be doing this frequently, we have to figure out how to do awkward small talk with each other  _at least_.”

Frank almost smiles. It’s probably a smirk, but it’s awfully close for him.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asks, a dry scratchy murmur.

“Yes,  _exactly_ ,” Foggy says, laughing genuinely. The coffee starts brewing and he leans against the counter, favoring Frank with a curious look. “I’ve got a sister and, like, six million cousins. You?”

“None,” Frank says.

“I could have guessed that,” Foggy says. “You seem like an only child.”

“Oh, yeah?” Frank asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Like you weren’t properly socialized,” Foggy explains, smiling when Frank huffs out a laugh. First time he’s heard that. Maybe it’s because Frank’s kind of loopy from blood loss, but Foggy’s starting to think he might not completely hate his company.

Frank stays for coffee and bagels and weakly exchanged banter. He sounds genuine when he thanks Foggy this time. Foggy counts at least three smiles.

He’s basically a vigilante whisperer.

*

“We’re friends, right?” Foggy asks, about a month in, handing Frank a beer before settling down next to him on the couch.

“Are we?” Frank asks.

“I asked first,” Foggy says.

“Shit,” Frank says, laughing. “Yeah–yeah, kid. We’re friends.”

Foggy smiles at him happily and Frank resolutely does not turn around to meet his eyes, but when, Foggy kicks his ankle lightly, the corners of his lips tilt up.

*

One night, Matt crawls through his window in full Daredevil get-up and wakes Foggy up, says regretfully, “Frank’s coming up the stairs, think he might have a concussion.”

Foggy groans as he sits up, eyes adjusting to see Matt with his mask off, sweaty hair standing on end.

“Couldn’t you have taken him to your place?” Foggy asks.

“Actually, he insisted on coming here,” Matt says. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, I hate to tell you like this,” Foggy says, around a yawn, “but we’re best friends now. You’ve been replaced.”

Matt rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got to let him in,” he says.

*

Foggy takes his time getting out of bed, listening to Matt and Frank talk quietly from the next room. He goes through his dresser to find clothes for both of them, not even bothering to glance at himself in the mirror before he joins them.

“Got comfy shit if you idiots want to get out of your crimefighting outfits,” he says. Frank’s sprawled out on his couch, and he turns at the sound of Foggy’s voice, laughing roughly.

“Looking good,” he says. Foggy frowns at him and ducks down to look at his reflection in his TV. His hair’s doing a  _lot_  of interesting things and he’s got some serious pillow creases on his face.

“You know I like to look my best for you,” Foggy says, standing up and smiling at him.

Frank smiles back fondly, says, “Guess I don’t look much better.”

Frank’s all torn clothes and big dramatic knot on his head and the bags under his eyes are even more concerning than usual. Foggy’s not convinced that the man sleeps.

“Pfft,” he says, walking up to touch Frank’s head lightly to see how bad the swelling is. “You’re just as handsome as ever. Can I do anything to help with this or is this just a making sure you don’t fall asleep kind of situation?”

“Latter,” Frank says.

“So, it’s basically like all of our other dates,” Foggy says, tapping the uninjured part of his head before he turns to see that Matt’s leaning against the wall and frowning at them, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s with the face, Murdock?”

“Nothing,” Matt says. He’s basically pouting.

“Change your clothes,” Foggy says, “and I’ll make enough coffee for you, too.”

Matt huffs and grabs the clothes that Foggy left on the coffee table, stomping off into his bedroom.

“Is he pissed at me or you?” Foggy asks, after Matt shuts the door behind him.

“Who knows?” Frank asks. “Could I have some aspirin?”

“Already on it,” Foggy says. “Are you too messed up to catch it?”

“Probably—” Frank starts, but Foggy throws it anyway, laughing when it bounces off Frank’s chest and he lifts his head slowly to give Foggy a baleful look.

Foggy’s making coffee when Matt comes back out, looking small in a pair of Foggy’s sweats and an old well-worn t-shirt.

“Could I talk to you?” he asks. “Privately?”

“Am I in trouble?” Foggy asks, but he follows Matt back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you and Castle…” Matt can’t seem to finish his sentence, making a pained face.

“…friends?” Foggy asks. “Because I put him back together about two times a week and am also, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,  _very_ charming. I cracked that hard icy exterior, like, a month ago.”

“I meant—are you  _together_?” Matt asks. He still sounds angry.

“Oh, yeah,” Foggy says, laughing. “I’m having a madcap love affair with the  _Punisher_.”

Matt raises his eyebrows.

“I’m  _joking_ , Murdock,” Foggy says, immediately. “Why would you even think that?”

“You were  _flirting_ ,” Matt says. “You know he’s a murderer, right?”

“You’re the one who set us up,” Foggy says, huffing out an annoyed laugh. “I guess you don’t want an invite to the wedding, then?”

“ _Foggy_ ,” Matt says. “This is serious.”

“Why is it suddenly serious?  _You_ sent him here, Matty,” Foggy says. “We got to know each other out of necessity, and he’s actually—kind of okay, murdering aside. Why are you freaking out now?”

“I—because—he’s not  _good_ for you,” Matt says, turning to walk to the other side of the room, his back to Foggy. Foggy feels deeply confused, but also like something important is about to happen, because—Matt doesn’t seem worried for his safety.

He seems  _jealous_.

Foggy steps forward slowly and places a hand on Matt’s arm.

“Who would be good for me, Matt?” he asks. Matt’s still and silent for a long moment before he turns and pulls Foggy into a kiss, unsurprisingly a dramatic one, one hand in his hair and the other wrapped around Foggy’s waist.

“I’m not—I’m not good for you, either,” he says, softly, when he turns his head to break the kiss. Foggy rolls his eyes and touches Matt’s jaw, guiding his head back so their noses are brushing.

“Shut  _up_ ,” he says, then kisses Matt with all that he has.

*

Ten minutes of frantic making out later, Foggy goes back out to see Frank wearing a pair of his pajama pants and no shirt, drinking coffee in his kitchen.

“I drank all of the coffee,” he says.

“Well, you needed it more than me,” Foggy says.

“Did you and Murdock work out your issues?” Frank asks, a little dry, favoring Foggy with a smirk.

“…what, do I look like I was just debauched?” Foggy asks, glancing down at himself. Fairly ruffled, semi-hard in his sweatpants.

“The hickey gave you away,” Frank says. “You want me to leave? I only came here because Murdock insisted I couldn’t be alone.”

“Nah,” Foggy says, grinning at him. “You not dying in your sleep is more important than Matt getting laid. I’m making him go home.”

“You’re really gonna make him work for it, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m worth it, aren’t I?” Foggy asks. He’s really happy.

“Sure, hotshot,” Frank says, shoving him lightly as he walks past him to sit on the couch again. Matt slips out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“You are, you know,” he says, smiling. Foggy smiles back.

“Get out of here,” he says, walking over to press a firm kiss to Matt’s mouth. “Frank and I are gonna talk about boys.”


End file.
